


Atheists in Foxholes

by derryderrydown



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-13
Updated: 2010-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-11 18:10:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derryderrydown/pseuds/derryderrydown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Winchester in Vietnam. Started somewhere between second and third season and merrily ignores anything later seasons told us about John's time as a Marine.</p><p>Warning: Contains racially offensive language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atheists in Foxholes

Viv Martinelli shoved his kitbag into the overhead locker and slumped into the aisle seat. Back to the fucking mudhole, so full of mosquitoes and leeches and shit that he didn't have a clue why anybody would even live there, let alone want it enough to fight over it.

"Shift over," somebody said.

Viv looked up for a moment. "Jesus, they're sending out grade school kids. Or are you looking for your daddy?"

The kid glowered. "Are you moving or not? I'm not spending the flight standing."

"And I'm not spending it wedged into the window seat." Viv pried himself upright to let the kid shuffle past him and wriggle through to the far seat.

"So you make the taller one take it. Thanks."

Viv settled back down and shoved the kid's elbow off the armrest. "Seniority." He tapped the stripe on his arm. "Or was it only the grown-ups who got to learn about rank?"

"Piss off," the kid - Winchester, according to his nametapes - muttered.

Viv rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat, suddenly bored of the whole scrap. "You're gonna have to lose that chip on your shoulder if you're gonna last out there."

"What do you know about it?"

Viv looked across at Winchester. "Third tour. And still alive." He raised an eyebrow. "What's this, your fifth? Sixth?"

Winchester's aggression seemed to drain out of him. "First." His mouth twitched. "They wouldn't let me go till I'd finished grade school."

Viv patted Winchester's thigh. "That's it kid, keep cheerful. It'll be over by Christmas." He fished a pack of smokes out of his thigh pocket and held them out to Winchester. "Nobody's ever said _which_ Christmas, mind. Want one?"

Winchester shook his head. "I don't."

"Your momma would be proud." Viv flicked his Zippo and lit his cigarette, which was the cue for an air hostess to materialise.

"I'm sorry, sir, the captain has lit the no smoking sign. You'll be able to smoke once we've taken off."

With a sigh, Viv stubbed it out. "Only because it's you asking, sweetheart." With the air hostess out the way, he sagged back in his seat. "Trolley dollies or cigarettes. Right now, I'd rather have the cig." He looked over at Winchester. "First time I went out, we went in military planes. Now, they're sending so damn many of us they've got to charter commercial jets. S'like they want us to think this is a nice vacation."

"Damn," Winchester said. "Y'mean they lied to me?"

"Marines never lie," Viv said. He grinned. "Well, not unless it's fun."

* * *

They'd been at Dong Ha two weeks, kicking around and doing nothing much while they waited for the bureaucracy to grind into life and spit them out somewhere. Probably somewhere in the Riviera, if Viv was reading the situation right.

And in two weeks, Winchester'd got so far under Viv's skin he felt like he'd be scratching at him for the rest of his life.

The kid was so damn earnest most of the time that it was easy to write him off as dumb, as a typical high school dropout. Viv knew the type too well - was one himself - but then Winchester'd say something with a glint in his eye, certain set to his face, and Viv'd realise all over again that the kid was smart.

Smart and fucking _good_. Viv'd always taken his own easy competence with a rifle for granted, just another one of those flukes, like the fact he was kinda short and scrawny and had a big nose and was already losing his hair at twenty-three. But Winchester _worked_ at it. Hours out on the makeshift range, and it showed so much that Viv found himself putting time in as well.

And then one day they came in with their hair plastered down with sweat and the prickle of sunburn already beginning on the bridge of Viv's nose and over his shoulders.

"Shower," he said, and nudged Winchester hard enough to make the kid stagger. "You stink worse than I do."

"Not possible," Winchester said, and shoved until Viv was lying on his back in the dirt, laughing. A moment more and Viv kicked Winchester's feet from under him and they were rolling in the dirt, limbs flailing, until Viv was on his back again, mouth filled with dust and Winchester straddling his chest, holding him down and grinning, both of them out of breath and Viv trying to ignore the feel of Winchester up close against him.

"Now I really need a shower," Viv said.

"Told you so," Winchester said, pushing himself off Viv, then holding his hand out to pull him up.

The shower tent was empty and that wasn't a problem until Viv looked up from soaping his hair and Winchester had a hard-on.

Oh, jesus.

He'd told himself it wasn't gonna happen this tour, that he wasn't going to get into the fucking heart-breaking dance of doing favours and borrowing hands and knowing the only person it meant a damn thing to was himself. But Winchester was right there and he looked so damn determined to ignore his cock, to pretend it wasn't standing up and saluting, that Viv found himself saying, "Hey."

Winchester looked round, cheeks flushed. "Yeah?"

Viv nodded towards Winchester's cock. "Want a hand with that?"

And the kid's eyes shot wide open. "I-"

"I'm not proposing marriage." Viv smiled, keeping it open and natural. "You telling me you made it through boot camp without anyone helping you out?"

"I'm best buds with my right hand," Winchester said eventually and Viv took a step towards him, eyes on the kid's face, trying to keep his wariness hidden.

"Borrow somebody else's," Viv said, easy as if he was telling him to keep his socks dry. One of those little bits of advice that made life more comfortable out here. And, hell, it _was_.

And, after a fucking ice age, the kid relaxed. "Sure. Thanks."

Viv shrugged. "Return the favour some time." And he was close enough to rest one hand on Winchester's shoulder, wrap the other around his cock, and the kid gasped. "Shut your eyes," Viv advised. "Just imagine I'm the girl you left back home."

A breath of laughter at that and Winchester obeyed.

His cock felt stupidly good in Viv's hand, heavy and hard and just _right_. It was tempting to take his time, take it slow and enjoy himself, but he was just doing a favour, just helping out, so best if he was quick. Maybe a little rough, little too hard, maybe pretending he hadn't done this as much as he had. And, hell, Winchester was just a kid so it only took a few jerks until he was whining, deep down in his throat, and Viv looked up at his face and Winchester was looking at him. Was watching him.

A final jerk, rough with shock, and Winchester was coming, and he wouldn't stop _looking_. Didn't understand the fucking rules, didn't understand he was doing it _wrong_ and Viv stepped away too fast, nearly slipped on the wet boards but Winchester grabbed him before he could hit the deck.

"Want me to return the favour now?" Winchester said, and his voice was rough, he was standing too close, and Viv stepped back again.

"I'm good," he said. "I'm good."

* * *

Two days after that, Viv had a private word with a battalion clerk, called in some favours. When he and Winchester finally got their assignments through, they were both for Echo 2/1, out in the wilds of the Riviera.

* * *

Viv jumped down from the truck and shouldered his bag. Winchester was too close behind him but Viv didn't acknowledge him. New home, new guys; it wasn't a time to let weaknesses show. And Winchester, damn him, was a weakness.

"Hey, Martini!" The voice was filled with cheerfulness and Viv grinned back as he spotted who was speaking. Lincoln Landeche, towering over Viv and with a good few inches on Winchester, but lanky with it.

"Linc, man! The gooks not got you yet?"

"Hell, no. Like they stand a chance. You back to give them another shot at your skinny ass?"

"Those MPs run fast. Just as I thought I was getting away, they grabbed me and threw me on a plane."

Landeche laughed, clapped Viv on the shoulder. "You brought anybody decent with you?"

And it was the perfect opportunity to leave Winchester to fend for himself so Viv couldn't explain why he said, "Nah, but this guy tagged along," and jerked his thumb at the kid. "Named for the rifle and he's half-decent at using it. About all he does know, mind. So new he squeaks."

"Which rifle's he named for?" Landeche asked Viv, but he was watching Winchester, who was watching right back with just as much wariness. "Baker?"

"Whatever rifle you want him to be named for," Viv said. A man never had any choice in his nickname or Viv certainly wouldn't be saddled with Martini. But you could point people in the right direction and if the other guys were focused on Winchester's name, they wouldn't look for anything else to name him after.

"Baker it is, then," Landeche said and Viv decided Winchester had gotten off lightly.

Only he apparently didn't see it that way, because he stood up straight and said, "It's Winchester."

Landeche didn't say anything. He just raised an eyebrow, looked Winchester up and down, then turned to Viv. "C'mon, Martini. There's a spare rack in my hooch."

Viv started to follow, then looked back at Winchester. "Got two racks? I'm-" Oh, sweet jesus, he was screwed. "I'm kinda looking out for the kid."

"You sure, Martini?" And when Viv just shrugged, Landeche sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. And then he nodded to Winchester. "Martini says you're okay, and he usually knows what he's on about. C'mon."

* * *

First patrol was a clusterfuck of the highest order. If Viv hadn't been keeping an eye out for Winchester, the kid would've been dead ten times over - and taken the rest of the patrol with him.

By the time they got back to the hill, Winchester was shaking with tension.

"Martini." Sergeant Karras nodded him over to one side and Viv went with a sinking feeling in his gut. "The kid's useless."

"He's new," Viv said. "We were all shit on our first tour."

"Linc says you spoke up for him."

"He's a good shot."

"Doesn't matter how good a shot he is if he's dead and a platoon with him." Karras' bony face looked even more serious than usual. "Teach him, Martini. Quick."

Viv sighed as he walked back to where Winchester was sitting, leaning against his pack with his rifle across his lap. He looked up at Viv. "I fucked up."

"We all fuck up when we're new."

"Not-" Winchester shook his head and Viv realised his voice was choked with anger, not fear. "I _fucked up_."

"You did well in training, didn't you?" Viv said, as things clicked into place. "Came top, or near it, in everything? Didn't have to work too hard?"

Winchester didn't say anything but Viv could see it clear in his face.

"Welcome to the real world, kid." He reached a hand down and hauled Winchester upright. "Okay. You willing to learn?"

"Always."

"And I'm willing to teach." He clapped his arm round Winchester's shoulders. "We'll get you through it."

* * *

For the next week, they stayed on the hill. The rest of the platoon went out but Winchester and Viv stayed right the fuck where they were and Viv taught and trained and coached, and by the end of it, Viv was pretty sure that patrol was the soft option because Winchester never stopped, never gave up, never stopped trying.

And when they finally collapsed onto their racks in the empty hooch, Winchester was young enough that he sighed with relief when Viv wrapped his hand round his cock and jerked him off, even while Viv was struggling to stay awake, murmuring the usual brainless platitudes - it's not some scrawny Marine's hand, it's a hot chick's, your chick's, your girl's...

"You keep saying that," Winchester said sleepily one night.

"Saying what?"

"Think of the girl I left back home." Winchester yawned. "I didn't _leave_ a girl."

"Sure, you split up before you shipped out." Viv shifted in his rack and it creaked under him.

"I never _had_ a girl."

Viv propped himself on one elbow and looked over at the kid. " _Never?_ "

"Not going steady kind of girl." Winchester shrugged.

Viv collapsed back into his rack. "Hell, who needs to go steady. As long as they put out."

There was silence from Winchester's rack.

"They did put out, right?"

"They were nice girls," Winchester said eventually.

"Jesus fucking Christ. You're a virgin." Viv stared at the roof of the hooch. "You came out to this shithole a virgin."

"It's not that big a deal," Winchester said, sounding uncomfortable.

"No. No, it _is_ that big a deal. Soon as we get to somewhere with hookers, I'm taking you out and we're dealing with this."

* * *

When the platoon came in at midday, they were carrying two men and missing a third.

"Who?" Viv asked.

"Frankel," Linc said, pushing past him.

Viv frowned. "Who?"

"New kid. Came in at the same time as you and Winchester."

"Fuck," Viv breathed. And no matter how much he told himself that it wasn't his fault, it didn't go away.


End file.
